Infinite Seeker - November KoreAm Column

Follow my editorial column at: www.iamkoream.com or their facebook page.

Here is the published November issue. I share my experiences as an orphan, an adoptee and general journey. 

You can always catch up with me on my Tumblr, Instagram or Facebook page.

Read Infinite Seeker 

 UPDATE: All these Koream links are not there anymore. To read any of my column visit here: http://kore.am/?s=kam+redlawsk

Playing Art Catch-Up

Hello?  Is anyone still out there?  I highly doubt it.  What am I averaging, a couple posts a year now?

 I'm hardly followable.  I get it. I barely blog now.  I know, terrible. I'm not sure why.

I guess I go in swings where sometimes I want to write or draw it out and other times I get myself into distractions and focus on living and enjoying life rather than dispensing my emotions or running, errrr, rolling to publicly catalogue it.  

During those times, I barely let anyone know what I am doing.  It's kind of like me not wanting to share everything about myself.  I suppose, I want some pieces to hold that I only know about.  I need that, too. I can't be mentally in HIBM 24/7, even though there is no real way to take a break from it, distractions or not.

If I'm asked about my HIBM I certainly don't mind talking about it. In fact, I'm glad if they do. I'm glad if they feel brave enough, or even better, unphased with asking me what is obviously on their mind. But if no one asks then I normally don't want to bother people and I spare them the details. With that, I guess I haven't been in the blogging or drawing mood. I go in waves.  

Drawing allows me to shed what I'm feeling without burdening others.  

There is a sense of calmness and working through the journey of emotions when I journal them through drawings and I need to be better at making time for them.  If I do keep progressing, which will most definitely happen if treatment doesn't draw nearer, I too would be interested in seeing the timeline of progression and moods through art. But I'm still hoping I won't see that day.

The thing is, I only share my drawings and my life because I want to motivate results and action.   I don't want to be just an "inspiration" because most inspirations are momentary and then forgotten about.

What am I supposed to do with that?  

It's not tangible. It's not something I can apply to the here and now, so I have very little reaction to "you're an inspiration".  True inspiration motivates action.  I guess I want action. I want passerbys to get involved.

I share my art for this reason and not to be watched from the sidelines as I deteriorate, hearing the words, "your art is so inspiring or you're so inspiring".  It's not right for me to feel this way but sometimes I get upset about this and I become discouraged and sometimes stop drawing or blogging.  When I feel like it doesn't matter, I withdraw. It's like a dagger to my heart. I open myself up not to be noticed but to perpetuate action.  

I find myself thinking that I don't want to hear how sorry everyone is ten years down the road when I'm already deteriorated, especially when something could have been done to prevent me from getting that far. I guess, I'm not interested in seeing sad faces ten years down the road when something could have been done.

These thoughts are unfair but honest.  I know things don't work out like this, it's no ones fault or duty, and patience is needed but time is always weighing on my weakening shoulders. Literally.  

With that, I realize I haven't posted art on here in a whileIn fact, I have only completed a couple new drawings in the past 6 months. I need to get better.  I have, however, been in four art shows that I never blogged about on here. For now I'll upload some of my newer drawings but you can always view them on my Facebook page

I'll get back to drawing this summer.

What's Everyone Staring At?

I haven't been much of a poster on here but I have been drawing alot.  I go through periods, I guess.  Sometimes I don't want to "speak".  I'm doing fine and there is no particular reason but at times I would rather draw than write.

Picasso's artwork is often categorized into periods; his Blue periods, Afrian-influenced periods, Rose periods, Cubism. People are like that, too.  It's not that I don't have anything to say, I have too much to share and say, but at times I prefer the solitude of just me and a drawing.  

Sometimes, I feel like I am saying more with less.  Sometimes, I get tired of the sound of my own voice or tired of sharing so much that to me feels boring.  Sometimes, it's not about telling people how they should be, how they should view things or the beliefs they should hold, yet it's the quiet sharing or story-telling that can drive a point home.

A few weeks ago I watched a documentary on the Topps Sisters, a pair of farm-raised lesbian twins who write and belt out country songs, yodel, perform sketches that lampoon both rural and society folk, and champion political causes.  Their act is fun and kitchy.

While these sisters could have rebeled and protested with loud words and disdain, they instead decided to entertain their point home. They used a sterotypical conservative medium to make their liberal message palatable to conservatives. They did what was genuine to them.  It was less about being "right" and more about sharing who they were so that others may come to understand their plight and perspective.  If we have an experience, we should share it.  

Sometimes, sharing in a quiet way can be just as effective as angry, intolerant reposting of everything we hate.  Sometimes, the best way to change another's view involves not trying to and instead sharing oneself.

I have definitely found an interest in story-telling. I have no training, I was not an english major, but I did train in design and have stories in my pocket.  I was not trained in illustration, but when I began I merely did what I thought felt right and deduced elements I had learned in design school. I then transported that to personal drawings. 

I like story-telling a seemingly simple moment and project it into a drawing.  It's an interesting process for me and the viewer. I often receive emails from strangers who share how my drawing applies to their own personal experience.  Simplicity is difficult, but the simpler one can be, the better.  It's not about being above the audience, it's about inviting them in.  At least, this is how I liked to be talked to.

I was watching filmmaker, Andrew Stanton (writer and director of Finding Nemo and WALL-E) give a speech at Ted Talks on the art of story-telling.  It sounded a bit formulaic and there was a science behind it, but overall it was about being genuine.  It's about real sharing and not about being right or with the agenda of changing your audience's opinion.  If you go in it for that reason then you're misguided.  Then you are saying you are right and that is one-sided.

He said, "We all know what it's like not to care" and "that we are born problem solvers, we are compelled to deduce".  We don't need to be told how to act or view, handheld, talked down to or manipulated into thought.  He says, "Use what you know. Draw from it. Capturing a truth from an actual experience."

While blogging and doing art  became a way to spread awareness about my rare condition, HIBM, the organization (ARM) and the scientists dedicated to bringing treatment to the public, I would much rather have my privacy.  But, this path (blogging and art) felt like a natural way to go and I let it be however it wanted to be. I never realized how much of myself I would give when I started this whole endeavor a little over a year ago.  Even prior to blogging and art, I already felt burnt out by HIBM, but this brought it to a whole different level.  I'm very glad this endeavor came about, but at the same time it can be exhausting and I've realized that keeping an audience is almost like a full time job.  

This drawing, "What's everyone staring at?" is an observation I have when I am out in the wheelchair, especially if I am alone.  When I was walking full-time I was told that people would look at me differently when I go into a chair -- even my friends.  I don't get upset when people stare, but I do notice it; the stares as much as the people overtly trying not to look, which is almost worse.  

Sometimes it's hard to not feel uncomfortable and not feel like the odd person in a sea of "normal".  Obviously, I know better, none of them are normal, either.  But at a quick glance, as long as everyone is acting similarly, they look the normal ones and I do not.  

When we walk past each other we make quick assumptions based on someone dresses or looks, but in general we regard most passerbys as normal people we are passing.  But when you see something that obviously fits outside of that box, such as a wheelchair, we categorize them as disabled. Different. And thus all the information and feelings that we have learned about this particular group, we tag them with.  Feelings of pity and sadness. "They must be limited in every way", we think and put into this unproductive box of a disabled world.

Until they talk to me. For some, I see their eyes glaze over in confusion when they realize I am a professional, articulate, have desire and passion.  

After this it can go one of two ways, they realize, "Hey, this is a real person in front of me, it's not so alienating to understand them." OR they say things like, "Well, good for you for trying to live like a normal person." or " You deserve it, you've gone through so much".  

A comment I greatly dislike.  A comment that reeks of ignorance. Nothing makes me feel so small and insignificant. And I'm a pretty confident person with a sense of humor about myself.

I can sense the uncomfortable stares.

When I am out alone I definitely get looks, looks that say, "Why are you out here alone?"

Looks of wonder. Looks that are sad that such a young girl is going through such a thing.  One day when I was rolling, this drawing came to mind.  A crowd of the sameness and how they react when anything different comes into the scene.  It can be simultaneous look of stares piercing you, even if they don't obviously look. And, here rests an opportunity to educate an audience and share with, no matter how much I hate being an educator of this subject.

Much of the trick is making your audience comfortable.  I feel like much of what I have to do is make sure everyone is "ok" with it before we can begin. Let them know that it is indeed ok and I am real. If I truly want them to learn, then it's not about me.  

Sometimes, I want to be alone when I'm wheeling around so I don't make eye contact or engage in conversation with strangers, but as soon as you make eye contact and let them know that you aren't so different, the attitude changes.  It can be all about how you act. If you act in self-pity, then everyone will pity you. I try to act as "Kam" because that's all I want to be. That's all I have ever wanted to be and that's all most people want to be; to be acknowledged as their self.  For the other 10% who will remain ignorant lost causes, it' not my problem. I did my best.

Like Them

A combination of something I saw, feel and parts of a recurring childhood dream.

Find Your Perspective

I seem to begin all my posts with, "Sorry, it's been a really long time since my last post..."

Well, I'm not going to do that this time. I'm not. Truth is, I have so much to share, in words and illustrations.  I have a back log of hundreds of drawing ideas, but we all know how it is. Finding the time is difficult and finding the excuse is easier ;).

I've been doing pretty well.  Really.  Been very busy while fighting some kind of being sick for the past four months. It's odd, besides my initial birth where i had all sorts of health complications, growing up I barely got sick.  My mother used to always say, "You never get sick".  I think she took personal credit and pride in that.  But, I guess we aren't twelve anymore.  

I get tired more often than I'd like, part age, part my hibm, but do my best to hold on to being able to do everything and anything. I just can't give that part up yet. I feel like hibm tries to wrestle me down...aha!

There's an illustration idea: a wrestler named "HIBM". What a schmuck. I envision what we must look like in the ring. I'm sure my costume is way cooler than his.

The other day I fell. I fell right in front of my bathroom door, right next to my bedroom door.  I fell backwards, flat on my back with my walker perfectly straddled over me. Don't feel bad. By now I'm an expert faller. I haven't fell in a very long time and it was a silly little step that threw me off balance. I was particularly mad and obsessing over that little misstep, because I had too much on my agenda that day and falling is a nuisance.  A waste of minutes.

Feeling too weak to roll over and attempt the whole drama of sitting up, I just laid there.

"shit"

"really?", I mumbled.

I stared at the ceiling.  "Huh, a new perspective", I thought.  It only takes a fall to see something new.

I texted a friend from down the street. Her name is Sonya. I hired her when I moved back to pop by a couple times a week for an hour to help out and in general someone who I could call in case of emergencies.  I try not to rely on her for too many things so I can maintain my independence, but she helps me with little things; when I need a ride or get myself in a pickle like today.  It's been invaluable having her available and willing to come when I need something.  

"I'll be there in 20 minutes.", Sonya texts.

I soaked up the scenery of my door and ceiling.  "Oh, so close", I kept thinking. I was nearly out the door.  It wasn't a terrible fall. Ironically, my walking is far from being graceful, yet my falls make me look like I'm a feather dropping.  

Seemed like a perfect situation to make my doorway into a drawing. After all I had spent a good amount of time lying there.

In my drawings my lines are ragged, a bit jaggedy.  I remember my very first illustration a year ago and I was annoyed that my lines weren't perfect, yet shaky. But then I realized I've never been able to sketch perfect lines even before HIBM began.  Not even in ID school.  My hand shakes a bit when I draw. I decided just to go with it and let that become my style.  I'm not perfect, so why should my lines be?

I imagined my door, walls and cupboards as buildings, and there I was walking in the sky.  I was looking up at myself or was it, I was looking down at myself?  Imagination is very important.  I think we focus on grades, intellect, education, and in school we sort of teach ourselves out of imagination, but imagination is a very important tool to have in life.  Don't let go of it.  I don't need to go on about that.  I'll leave that to Sir Ken Robinson. I recommend his book Out of Our Minds.

When I don't have control, when there is nothing in the world that can change my circumstance, I imagine myself out of it. After all, as much as I'd like to, I can't escape my problems. I literally cannot run away.  Sure, I could avoid them, like most of us try to because we don't want to deal with anything bad, or I could take up a vice and get lost in overeating, working excessively, drinking, constant partying, drugs. This is in no way judgement to those that do. Every one of us have our escape routes handy in case we need to jump ship.

I guess for me mine is creativity and "doing".  Creativity keeps me grounded, sane, more alive and will things possible.  It's all I have in these moments. I want what I can't have so badly that I say, "Screw you" and imagine it up myself.

If I saw it exactly as it really was, such as this situation on the ground, it would only make me cry and frustrated.

Highwire

A Thin Line. This is my current stage. Sometimes I feel like I am walking a very thin line between walking and not walking. I am being pulled in by the waves of the inevitable, and my next (major) milestone is drawing nearer. Sometimes it makes me sad but I have to maintain balance, not only with my physical shell, but on the inside.

Food for Thought: My Mind Doodles, Does Yours?

Thought I would post some food. In my attempt to eat healthier I've been trying to cook healthier.

I made this dish; pan seared salmon with some candied lemons and pickled persian cucumber. I dredged the salmon in a little cornstarch just to see what it would do. And, heirloom tomato and peach salad with basil and mint. You wouldn't think tomatoes and peach go together, but they do. The sauce is just some olive oil, soy, balsamic, orange juice and lemon.

I really do love to cook. I think with the holidays nearing I get really excited with the thought of being able to cook for anyone who ends up around my dinner table. This is me appreciating what I have while I have it. Last year was the first year I hosted Thanksgiving, a tradition that was my Grandmas. She passed away three years this Christmas, and so did alot of the traditions.

That, combined with the fact that my family is all scattered, holidays are just not the same. That makes me sad. And so every year, at this time, I think of grandma and those holidays that happened around her table.

Last year I cooked for my brothers and a bunch of friends. That was my very first holiday and it was all mine. I think at that time I realized there may be a time when I will not be able to host holidays again...and sometimes this makes me quite sad. I want to cook for my children and my children's children. I want to welcome them in from a cold day with warmth. So, I try to enjoy it while I can and put as much love as I can into it, because once it is gone, it is gone. It, meaning not just my body, but time.

I think I have already posted about why I love cooking so much. One, being the obvious, is it is centered around people, and two, it is creative.  

Cooking is slightly different than say how I would tackle a design of a product or branding a company, for example. Cooking is physical. It is repetitive and I know how to tackle it from any angle without even thinking. I don't think while I cook, I just do.  

But, when I am designing, whether a product or dreaming up a vision for a brand, it takes a little more effort. Of course it involves me putting a pen to paper and physically drawing, but for me design is more inside my head and I am charting mentally...creating spider webs and interweaving a broader scope. It is a cerebral exercise and I am so very thankful that my career is centered around my mind and not my body.  

I graduated from College for Creative Studies and majored in Automotive Design.  Since graduation I have added areas of "design" interest to my repertoire. Product, Graphic, Illustration, Web and the last few years I have really gotten into branding. There are so many components when you design something like a product, which is probably why I have gotten into branding; overall vision.  

If you tell me to design, say a shoe, I can't just design THAT shoe. I need to think of its broader scope. I just can't help it. It gives me a starting point, the start line preceding the finish line. It, design/art, is logical yet organic. 

A genuine expression of oneself is art.  Forget all the fancy paintings and hall of fame furniture pieces as being the representation or the mascots OF design. They are historical and meaningful, but so is everything that never sees the light of being a headliner in a textbook or paper.  It comes in all forms, from the experienced "artist" to the "non".

When Ideas Dance, So Do I.  I did this little 'trapper keeper' doodle. A ramble of thoughts spilling out of my head. I may not be able to physically dance, but my mind is a keyed orchestra and my thoughts, the entangled dancers.  When sketching this I actually was thinking of the movie Forest Gump. When Gump is younger and dancing in his restrained leg braces -- you know, right before Elvis steals his moves?

I added edamame in the sketch because I had a little situation with them today. 

Lately, I've been eating salads and boiled eggs for lunch. I am also way into edamame. I can buy the ones that are already shelled or the pods. I choose the pods because I figure it is good hand exercise to shell them myself.

When I make my lunch I have to strategize how to get the food from my kitchen to my desk. I usually use my rolly office chair, place all the items on it and then push it to my desk. I dropped my package of Trader Joe edamame on the floor. Luckily I have wood floors, so I took my cane and slid it across the floor like a hockey puck. Unfortunately the hockey puck met a bump and out came all the edamame...awwwww...noooo!.  

I can't bend down to pick them up, but needed to get them off the floor before my little Pippi came. She too LOVES edamame. So, one by one I pushed them across the floor towards my desk. This way I can sit in my chair, lean on my desk and safely bend down to pick them up.

Yes, there is strategy in every day. I felt like I was playing shuffle board and while I was picking them up one by one, since it took so long to do so, I imagined an edamame city and what that would look like. Buildings, cars, people, pets, all made up of edamame. A world made up of edamame. Could be fun. Got lost in the idea. Perhaps I will sketch it out one day. 

I've been working on a lot of design projects recently and nearing the end of my portfolio.  When it is finished it will probably end up being around 60 pages. 

It is time to get back out there. I need it. I am slave to human interaction and the magic that happens when ideas are bounced around from person-to-wall-to-person. Thoughts jumping like a ping pong machine.  Since leaving my LA gig, I've been consumed with ARM stuff, personal design projects, alot of freelance and in the middle of all that, dreaming up the company that I one day want to start.  I've also been watching alot of independent movies and reading alot.

My most recent book, a book I had read before but never appreciated like I do now, is 'The Diving Bell and the Butterfly: A Memoir of Life in Death'.  

Jean-Dominique Bauby, the editor-in-chief of Elle magazine, suffered a stroke and lapsed into a coma. He awoke 20 days later only to realize he was left with a condition called locked-in-syndrome, a condition in which the patient is aware and awake but cannot move, nor talk due to complete paralysis of all voluntary muscles in the entire body except for the eyes. The entire book was written by Bauby blinking his left eyelid, the only part on his being that he could move...besides his mind.

The average WORD took about two minutes to compose.

Reading his book, I can hear is voice. He has a strong one. The movie is equally tear jerking. I think it is important to have a voice, something personal and sacred to yourself. Sharing your own voice, yourself and your perspective from your very own experience.  Bauby saw the problem, experienced it and then set forth to do something about it - even if it was just him blinking his eye. The book is an easy read. Only 120 pages. I read the whole thing in the bathtub the other night.  

My current book is Kurt Vonnegut's, "Breakfast of Champions'.

No mention of Wheaties anywhere. Slightly disappointed ;).